


Dark Pleasures of the Coffee Kind

by AnneScriblerian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneScriblerian/pseuds/AnneScriblerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody understands Harry, not even Harry. Severus helps him figure himself out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Pleasures of the Coffee Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 SnarryGlompFest.
> 
> Giftee was kitten_alone, but she didn't respond. Some other people liked it!
> 
> Prompt Number: 8: I would really love to read a fic, where Harry struggles to live a normal life after the war, secluding himself – maybe working as a gamekeeper or helping rebuild Hogwarts? Harry feels like Snape is the only one that understands him. But what I’d really like to read is first: Harry being totally oblivious of his feelings for Snape, and second: Harry being very uncomfortable about all things sex – not just between men – and even after they’ve done the deed!

No one would ever suspect Harry Potter of being a hedonist.

In fact, his friends worried about him. He didn't date, he didn't go out with them to the pub on weekends, and he hardly ever came over when invited to family dinners. All he did was work.

But Harry didn't think of his work as work. Socializing was work. Talking, smiling, even just sitting still for long periods of time exhausted him. He needed to move. He needed to keep busy. He didn't need to . . . to . . .

"Harry! There's a customer out here who wants your help!"

Harry snapped out of his half-resentful reverie. Now, this was going to be fun.

*~*~*~*~*

Minette, Minnie to her great-aunt, Min to her friends, Minou to those who needed a good arse-kicking, and Mon petite chou to, of all people, Seamus Finnegan, understood Harry better than most. The fact that she had attended Beauxbatons rather than Hogwarts was rather more helpful in that regard than not. The fact that she was younger -- just Ginny Weasley's age, in fact -- was also a boon.

The "coincidence" of Minerva McGonagall's being Min's great-aunt was helpful only in that this was the reason Min was here at all. Not here in Dark Pleasures, Harry's coffee shop, but why she was in England. Min suspected that Harry had hired her, not so much as a favor to his old Head of House, but because she was gorgeous.

Not that Harry cared about that in any personal way. Min had discovered that fact the very first night that they had met, in the Headmistress's office. Any beautiful woman of her age knew how to instantly ascertain the level of sexual interest any given man had in her. It was just good sense. Harry had not had an eye for Min. He simply had a good eye for business, and a beautiful barista meant more business, and Ginny already worked at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Also, Min had to admit, Harry probably did want to help out Min's namesake. He was deplorably nice. He might have a head for business, but he had no common sense when it came to himself.

The slag who had asked for Harry, and his cheerful acquiescence to her summons, was proof enough of that.

*~*~*~*~*~*

One glance at the customer was enough for Harry to pick her poison. Hell, he didn't even need to see her artfully applied eye makeup and glistening lips, the perfectly honeyed color of her hair was enough.

She has money, but she wants more. She would consider seducing him the success of her year, and if he impregnated her, it would be the coup of a lifetime. She wasn't naturally thin, but she employed some strenuous, non-magical methods to maintain her taut, lightly muscled form.

She was a skinny latte, extra shot, and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

He knew that Min would memorize her name and her "signature" drink, so he didn't even bother listening as the skinny latte introduced herself.

He was charming enough to win her custom, but bland enough to deflect her innuendo. She would declare him to "not be all that he was cracked up to be" to her friends over luncheon today, but she would keep coming back.

Skinny lattes never gave up. That was what made them such loyal customers.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Min was shaking her head at Harry and mouthing the words, "You're an idiot," when He walked into Dark Pleasures.

He. Him. The man himself.

Severus Snape.

Harry shivered slightly when he caught the man's eye. He didn't actually see Min noticing, but he knew that she did. She was absolutely right. He was an idiot.

Snape agreed.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I am not sure whether to be pleased that you have the courage to hire someone who will tell you the truth about yourself, or to despair at your inability to maintain discipline in your own shop."

Harry was infinitely grateful that Min didn't respond. She had her great-aunt's backbone of steel, despite all of her lovely curves.

Snape watched her walk away. Harry would have felt . . . concern, yes, concern, if he had seen even a flicker of interest in those black eyes. He was, after all, Min's friend as well as her boss, and he would owe it to her to warn her off from such a dangerous . . .

"I had come here in the admittedly faint hope that I might be served coffee."

Snape's eyes had regained their customary heat when he turned his attention back to Harry. At least Harry thought it was Snape's normal expression. You couldn't exactly ask, say, Ron, if Severus Snape always looked at him like he wanted to kill him. Or eat him.

Harry blinked slowly, then he remembered that Snape was not his teacher, that he was a customer. And now it was Harry's turn to talk. He mentally smacked himself and tried to act as though he was actually a successful business owner.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was . . ."

Snape sighed.

"I see that my hopes were in vain. I cannot say I am surprised. I suppose I should venture down the block and try to get served at Caffe Nero."

"No! I mean, please don't. I would be more than happy to serve you."

Snape's smile was unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. It was to the come-hither looks of the skinny lattes as the sun was to a first-year's Lumos charm.

It was dazzling.

"Would you, now?"

Harry gulped and tried to focus on coffee. Smooth green beans, the crackle of the roaster, the acrid aroma of just a few minutes too long over the fire . . .

He regained enough composure to sound confident, he hoped, when he replied, "Of course, sir."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry's composure had been threatened again when Snape asked him to tell him what drink should be his "signature." Surely the man was mocking him. But, after all, Harry knew the value of a sale. No amount of Galleons could erase the results of his upbringing as a poor child. He knew that he had to earn every pence he could in order to feel secure.

So, he sat down at a corner table with Severus Snape, their knees bumping under the table. No matter how Harry shifted, he couldn't seem to get away from Snape's legs. He stopped trying to avoid them and focused on the business at hand.

Despite being unspeakably awkward, the situation was rather exciting. Harry almost never had to think about what a customer would like. It was especially easy when they were trying to . . . flirt? Was that what Snape was doing?

Anyway. When customers' desires were close to the surface, he could practically see them. Hermione was dead wrong about him, as was Min. Harry was perfectly aware of sensual desire. He just saw it as, well, as coffee.

Snape was no healthy glowing Rugby player (vanilla latte), college boy (hazelnut syrup), or even an "artiste" (Clover). He was, perhaps, closest to an emo kid (espresso, preferably bitter).

Harry smiled as he pictured Snape with a turquoise fringe. Snape didn't even scowl; he seemed to be taking this seriously. As a business owner with a customer, Harry was required to at least seem to do the same. But as he puzzled over the nature of Snape's desire, he found himself taking it rather seriously in fact as well as manner.

Snape had the depth of suffering that the emo kids thought they wanted. He was no kid, but he was no "cool uncle" either. He wasn't a parental sort, he wasn't even a friendly sort. He wasn't a cranky old man or a bitter fop. Despite his plain dress and ungroomed hair, he wasn't an ascetic.

Harry rather thought he was the opposite.

Dark Pleasures, indeed.

Harry blurted out, "Turkish coffee".

Snape looked surprised, as if he had forgotten that Harry was actually thinking. Not that that was a shocking development; Snape had never believed that Harry could think.

"If that is anything like Turkish Delight, I shall be forced to write a negative review on Coffee Geek."

Harry snorted.

"You know about Coffee Geek, and you don't know what Turkish coffee is?"

Snape stiffened a bit.

"It is a new avenue of research for me. I have always been more focused on tisanes."

"Yeah, that would go with the whole potions thing."

Harry couldn't miss Snape's wince at his use of the words, "potions thing".

He waved a hand and continued before Snape could interrupt, "I know, I know. Potions is 'subtle science and exact art'. So is coffee brewing."

Snape did not interrupt, but he did not seem mollified, either.  
Harry smiled and stood up.

"Look, Sna . . . sir. It will be easier to show you."

That look was back.

"Of course, Harry. You always were better at doing than at telling, weren't you?"

Harry took heart at the heat of Snape's gaze and the syrupy richness of his voice as he led Snape to the back room.

Definitely Turkish coffee.

*~*~*~*~*

Snape seemed distracted as he watched Harry measure and pour and hold the cezve over the fire. Harry supposed that watching his supposedly inept former pupil brew something was driving Severus mad.

Harry found himself, for the first time in a long time, enjoying driving someone mad.

Snape's mouth opened a bit when he saw the amount of sugar Harry added to the copper pot, but Harry had his own arsenal of quelling glances. He tended to forget this when faced with Snape, but this was his domain. Snape would just have to shut up and let Harry take control.

The thought made Harry feel as though the thick foam formed by his brisk stirring was tickling his insides.

He carefully poured the coffee into two copper cups he had had custom-made in Anatolia. They each had a phoenix delicately hammered into the metal. Snape smirked at that and began to raise the cup to his lips.

"Wait!"

Snape froze, the cup half-way to his lips.

"Had you decided to poison me, and are you suddenly having second thoughts?"

Harry blushed.

"No. No, I don't think of you at all. I mean, I don't want to poison you. I want . . . first we need to drink some water."

"First? And then what?"

Snape's suggestive tone was becoming more and more obvious. Harry wouldn't be able to pretend he didn't notice for much longer. But he was strangely reluctant to brush Snape off. He would keep up the facade of innocence as long as he could. Snape should have no problem believing that Harry would miss a hint.

"Then we sip. Turkish coffee is meant to be enjoyed with a clean palate."

Snape was silent as he swallowed the small glass of water and sipped his coffee. He closed his eyes as the thick sweetness hit his tongue, and Harry watched him intently. He was almost sure he had read the man right, but Snape was mysterious enough that he wanted physical evidence that he had chosen correctly.

Snape's eyes rolled under his lids.

Harry resisted the urge to whoop and pump his fist in the air.

Snape opened his eyes a slit, and he looked down through his lashes at Harry.

"It is exquisite," Snape drawled. "I can only think of one thing that would improve it."

Then he leaned forward and shoved his tongue down Harry's throat.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Min almost jumped out of her skin when she strode into the back room.

Her question, something about napkins or the register or . . . it didn't matter, died in her throat as she watched Harry being snogged senseless by the great bat of a man her great-aunt always called "poor Severus." She stood there perhaps a moment or two longer than was strictly proper, but even though Harry was blind to her charms, she had never been blind to his.

'Thank God he's finally getting some,' she thought, as she gently closed and warded the door. But as she considered who was giving it to him, she once again shook her head and thought, 'Harry's an idiot.'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry couldn't help himself; he groaned as Snape slid his sweet, agile tongue into Harry's mouth. It felt so good, Snape was so delicious, Snape . . .

Snape was clutching Harry's arse.

Harry jerked backwards.

"I don't . . . I never . . ."

Snape's face twisted as he snarled, "You don't what, Potter? Kiss men? Fancy your nasty old professor? Mean anything when you tease?"

Harry was incensed.

"You're not old. I don't kiss anyone and I don't tease!"

Snape's face untwisted into an expression of curiosity so rapidly that Harry felt a mad desire to giggle. He had enough righteous anger, and a strong-enough survival instinct, to remain silent.

"You don't kiss anyone? Why ever not?"

"I had enough of that right after the war. Plenty of people to kiss and to . . . well . . . plenty of people."

Snape still looked puzzled. Harry had never imagined that he could fluster Snape at all, let alone so many times in one encounter. It was all a bit heady, and he took another gulp of water before he continued.

"Listen, it's not a big deal. Sex just doesn't work out for me. I make people happy in other ways."

Snape's face was more expressive today than Harry had imagined was even possible with such stony features. That, or Harry was just better at reading people than he used to be. He watched Snape's expression move rapidly from disdain to prurient curiosity to doubt and back to curiosity.

"No," Harry replied flatly, "I don't mean that."

Severus sniffed.

"I never considered the possibility, Potter."

Snape was lying. Interesting.

"I don't . . . I give people coffee. They like it. That's enough for me."

Snape's eyes weren't hot anymore, they were soft. Soft, but not pitying. Harry could take anything but pity.

"Harry. Do you really think sex is about making other people happy?"

Harry scoffed.

"Well, maybe it's not for Death Eaters, but yes, it is for normal people."

Snape ignored his crack about Death Eaters, and Harry didn't think that the heat that was returning to Snape's eyes was from anger.

"Yes, of course. However, what you don't seem to understand is that sex is about pleasing your partner for both of the parties involved."

Harry frowned as he tried to understand Snape's logic puzzle. Why couldn't the man ever speak plainly?

Snape's voice was gentle as he asked, "You enjoy pleasing people by giving them what they desire, don't you? I could see the joy in your face when you realized you had chosen the right coffee for me."

"Yes, damn it! Of course I enjoy giving people coffee! That's why it's my job! I just don't see why that can't be enough. Everyone wants more, and I hate it!"

Snape reached out for Harry's hand, moving as carefully and deliberately as if Harry was a wild creature that would bolt at any moment.

"I don't know about 'everyone.' But what I want is to give you pleasure. Do you really think it's fair to hog all of the joy of giving for yourself?"

Harry felt his mouth drop open. No words came. He snapped it shut.

Harry didn't retreat when Severus slowly brought his lips to meet his.

Snape smelled of burnt sugar and tasted of something so complex that Harry thought he'd need years to figure it out.

But he couldn't. It would just be the same as it had been with all the others. Once Snape had fucked the Boy Who Lived he would be done with him, and Harry would be dropped like a dirty, crumpled paper napkin.

Harry cringed at that thought and stepped back abruptly. Snape moved with him until Harry's back bumped against the table. Then Snape leaned in towards him and . . .

Harry shouted, "No!"

Snape withdrew so quickly that Harry swore he heard the air clap shut around where the man had been pressed against him. He expected to see anger or disdain on those harsh features, but instead the was something that looked a lot like pain.

"Shit, Snape. I don't mean it like that."

"I am unsure exactly what you think your disgust means, Potter, but I find that I have had enough of it for a lifetime. I apologize for offending you, and I shall not bother you again."

Harry didn't want that. He didn't know what he wanted, but it wasn't to see the last of Snape.

He tried to laugh it off, to save the situation somehow.

"But I thought you liked the Turkish coffee!"

Snape didn't even look back as he slammed the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Seamus was still laughing as he gasped out, "She did say you were an idjit, Harry."

Harry glared at Min.

"Oi! Keep your boyfriend under control, will you?"

"No."

Well. There wasn't much Harry could say to that.

Min's tone was more Minerva-like than ever.

"For goodness sakes, Harry, don't pout. Or if you are going to pout, turn it on someone who might find it attractive. Even better, stop feeling sorry for yourself and go apologize to the man!"

Seamus looked confused.

"Wait, you want Harry to apologize to Snape because Snape jumped him? Shouldn't that be the other way around?"

Harry used the moment when Min turned to Seamus to clarify just who was the idiot here to slip away.

He might well be an idiot, but he was damn tired of being a fool.

*~*~*~*~*

Snape in pyjamas was not a wondrous sight. Snape in pyjamas with a murderous glare was a horrible sight. Harry almost lost his nerve at the sight of so much gawky rage.

"While I am the last person to point out how good you are at anything, Potter, I must say that your thoughtless use of your unusual gifts to break through my wards and rouse me from my bed does indeed exceed even my expectations of your reckless use of power."

Harry didn't understand anything Snape said. That was not unusual. What Harry did understand was that if he didn't do something soon, he was going to be hexed within an inch of his life. So he did the first thing that came to mind.

He flung himself at Snape and got a good taste of what knobby knees and pointy elbows wrapped in flannel could do to a body's tender bits.

Snape was not impressed.

"You are the most infuriating little . . ."

Harry threw himself on Snape's mercy, as well as on his person.

"Snape, Severus, I want to. I want you. I just don't know how."

Severus pushed him away, and Harry looked at the floor, feeling like the lump in his throat would choke him to death and wishing that it would hurry up and do so and end this horrible situation once and for all.

But Severus didn't push Harry too far away. He simply held him out at arm's length.

"Look at me."

Harry couldn't.

"Harry. You have to tell me. Are you a virgin?"

"God, no!"

This was horrible. Harry began to squirm in Severus's grasp, trying to escape what surely had to be a nightmare.

"I don't understand, Harry. If you have had sex before, why can't you even talk about it?"

Harry stopped struggling and, after a long moment, looked up into Severus's eyes. He blinked away the moisture in his eyes, and of course he was crying like a little girl, he was so pathetic, and why the hell couldn't anyone understand . . .

"Because it's gross! Is that what you wanted to hear? Harry Potter is such a pussy that he can't even stand to think about sex, let alone talk about it."

Severus brought a hand up to cup Harry's cheek, and he spoke so tenderly that Harry thought he must be dreaming.

"You are certainly not a pussy. Pussies are lovely things, but I can assure you that you are not one. And if you think sex is 'gross,' then you've been doing it wrong."

Harry laughed, and a bubble of snot threatened to escape his nose.

"Argh! Look at me! I'm disgusting. I'm about to start blubbering and there's snot running down my face and I don't do anything, so I don't know how it's my fault that I don't do sex right, and if you're such a bloody expert, why don't you show me what to do?"

Severus produced a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his pyjamas, wiped Harry's face clean, and said, "Obviously someone has to. You are a hopeless mess on your own."

Harry barely had time to choke out, "You ruddy bastard", before Severus stopped talking and started doing.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Apparently Harry really had been doing it wrong.

Severus began by smelling him. It should have been ridiculous, but it made Harry feel like something exquisite. He knew the joy of a pungent aroma, in fact his entire business rested on the power of smell and taste. But he had only ever considered his own smell to be something that was to be washed away as often and as quickly as possible.

Severus pulled off Harry's shirt, all the while breathing him in like he couldn't get enough. Then he raised up Harry's arm and licked his armpit.

"Oh! No! What are you, that's disgusting!"

Severus gripped Harry's wrist more tightly and continued running his tongue down the side of Harry's chest.

"That tickles!"

Severus took a moment to grasp both of Harry's flailing hands and, with a wave of his wand, tied them together.

"What the hell?!"

Harry's protests died in his throat as Severus knelt in front of him and began to mouth Harry's erection through his trousers.

All the blood rushed from Harry's head and he thought, I'm going to fall down.

Severus must have read his mind, because just as Harry started to sway he felt himself being grabbed around the waist. He once again began to struggle.

"Harry." Severus's voice was calm. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, it's just that I don't know what to do!"

"That's why I bound you. To reassure you that you don't have to do anything."

That shocked Harry into silence. It should be the other way round, he thought. But it made sense, in a Snape-y sort of way. Surely Severus Snape wouldn't do anything he didn't want to do, and if he was the one doing everything, then he must want to do it, and that meant that Harry wasn't forcing him to do anything he didn't want to do.

So Snape must have enjoyed licking Harry's armpit.

"This is very confusing."

Severus's chuckle was deep, dark chocolate.

"No, it's not."

"But . . ."

"Should I perform a silencing spell as well?"

Harry bit his lips and shook his head.

"Good. Now let's get a bit more comfortable, shall we?"

Harry wasn't sure that he would call being stripped and laid out on Severus's bed, arms tied to the bedposts, "comfortable".

And being nibbled and licked and sniffed and tasted, even in the embarrassing parts like toes and armpits (again!) and groin and . . . Oh!

That could not be appealing to Severus. But damn it felt amazing to have a hot, supple tongue in his arse, and he wasn't forcing Severus to do it, he could barely move, and . . .

When fingers replaced tongue and cock replaced fingers, Harry felt like he was the one who had been heated and stirred and melted in that cezve.

And when Harry, bent almost double and wailing, shot come all the way up to his own lips, he was disgusted with himself until Severus slid up and licked Harry's face clean.

Harry was so spent and shivery that he almost believed Severus when he murmured, "Absolutely delicious."

*~*~*~*~*~*

As the days grew into months and then years, Harry realized that, while might have pressed his sensual nature into the service of business, the nuances of coffee, his shop wasn't called Dark Pleasures just because the name lured in the fans.

Harry's hedonism was a deep well, and Severus taught him how to drown in it.


End file.
